Wings from the Waters
by Hoshi-tachi
Summary: In 1991, Quirrell is ordered to attack Harry directly. As a result, the Boy-Who-Lived will never be alone in the fight again.
1. Set Your Spirit Free

Title: Wings from the Waters

Author: hoshi-tachi

Category: Harry Potter

Rating: PG for now.

Pairings: Unknown, but none for a good long while. I should warn you, this is more likely to be slash than not.

Summary: In 1991, Quirrell is ordered to attack Harry directly. As a result, the Boy-Who-Lived will never be alone in the fight again.

Warnings: Hmm, some violence, maybe some swearing, and _very_ temporary character death. I'll probably upgrade this to PG-13 later for the swearing alone.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything pertaining to his life. The basis of this story comes from _Hideaway_, by **Dean Koontz**, so I don't own it, either. The only involvement I had in the process was in slapping the two together.

* * *

_Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice._

_"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."_

_There was a loud "Oooooh!"_

_The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers._

_"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and Ron were followed into their boat by Neville and Hermione._

_"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then- FORWARD!" (1)_

* * *

Quirinus Quirrell glanced up as the half-giant's bellow rang over the lake, the first time his attention had left the wand in his hands in over three hours. Wincing at the volume, even from so far away, he gave the wand one last polish with the bit of cloth and rose from the mossy boulder.

Given the job that wand had to perform, it had best be in good condition. If something went wrong, it would most likely cost him his life, and perhaps his soul.

Intently watching the small boats as they set off across the lake, he waited behind a tree for the tiny craft to come in range.

_:do not fail me, my ssservant... the consssequencesss would not be...pleasssant..._

Quirrell shuddered, bowing his head to acknowledge the hissing of his Master's voice. Though it shook, he raised his wand to point at the boats, using the tree to steady his aim.

_:there... he isss there... ssstrike!:_

Ignoring the diminutive voice that screamed inside him, dismissing it as insignificant, the professor said the incantation quietly, almost reflectively.

And the Blasting Curse raced across the still water.

* * *

The tension was almost palpable, as the boats traveled at a snail's pace over the lake, and Harry wondered if that was part of the tradition. A quite unnecessary part, considering he'd never been as keyed up as he was now.

But then, what would you expect? He was going to learn _magic_, in a place where no one hated him because of Dudley's gang. It was the fulfillment of all his dreams and wild fantasies, the perfect chance to prove he wasn't the worthless little orphan his family had belittled for ten years.

Unable to stop a smile from spreading over his face, Harry glanced around at the other occupants of the undersized boat.

He still wasn't entirely sure to make of Ron. No one had ever offered to be his friend before; the Harry Hunters had made sure of that. But earlier, when together they stood up against that other boy, Malfoy, it felt... right.

Harry could most definitely get used to that feeling.

As for the other two... Hermione seemed nice, if a little intimidating. And Neville reminded him of himself, before Hagrid came and tumbled his monotonous, despised life down the drain. Timid, unsure, expecting everyone he met to somehow ridicule him...

Okay, so Neville _still_ reminded Harry of himself. Even if the boy wasn't going to admit it out loud.

The smile turned a bit rueful at the turn his thoughts had taken, as he looked out over the side of the skiff at the dark, tranquil water. The passage of the modest fleet barely disturbed the surface of the lake, and Harry leaned over farther to get a better view of the moon's unruffled reflection.

Those few inches were all that allowed him to see the sudden flash of violet light, a radiant burst glimmering off the water's almost perfect mirror. Surprised, Harry jerked back even as he glanced up, a cry escaping his lips.

The other children in the boat turned towards him at the sound, their own eyes widening at the unexpected sight. Even as the light rushed towards them, Harry turned away, searching for the man who had saved him from everything else. _"Hagrid!"_

But it was already too late. With a heart-rending _crash_, the Blasting Curse hit the little craft, upending it and sending its occupants flying.

As Harry broke the surface of the lake, his last thought before the descending boat struck his head was a despairing wish that the Dursleys had let him learn to swim.

Not that it would have done him any good anyway, as the Boy-Who-Lived surrendered to the deep darkness of insensibility.

* * *

(1) This passage comes directly from J.K. Rowling's _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_.

(2) In the _Harry Potter Lexicon_, Quirrell's first name is "Quirenius". The _Internet Movie Database_ has it as "Slatero", while according to the _Harry Potter Trading Card Game_ it's "Quirinus". Excuse me for being a bit confused, but I thought "Quirinus Quirrell" sounded best, as well as kept up the Rowling tradition of twinned names (Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, Filius Flitwick, etc.)

* * *

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know, what the _hell_ am I doing, starting yet another story when I haven't even managed to finish my first? The answer is, of course... that I'm temporarily stuck. Temporarily, I assure you, but stuck nonetheless.

And you know perfectly well that if you would just _sit down_ at the computer and write, _without_ reading fanfics for hours on end, you could pump chapters out in half the time.

/scowls/ You're just annoyed because I decided to start this one instead of the one _you_ came up with.

...

Hah! Oh, and R&R, please. This one's a bit different from the others I've done, so I want to know what you think of it.

* * *

16 August 2004


	2. Waiting for a Touch

_Summary, Warnings, and Disclaimer:_ Nothing new to add to this one, actually… I would say I don't own CPR, but I'm certified… does that count?

* * *

_…They've taken everything that I've had to give and  
__They say it's over but man I'm still here livin'  
__I don't know what to do, I think that maybe  
__I'm in over my head  
__Stuck in the red  
__Somethin__' they said  
__Makes me think that  
__I'm in over my head  
__Over my head  
__Over my head…  
_

**_-LIT, "Over My Head"_**

**_

* * *

_**

Hagrid lifted the girl from the water, dropping her gently into the boat pulled alongside. Even as he turned away, another student draped his cloak about her shoulders.

Frowning, the half-giant anxiously surveyed the water for the last of his charges. "Harry?" he called, a note of concern roughening his voice.

Abruptly he stopped, as something large loomed beneath the surface of the lake. Most of the first-years flinched back as the giant squid broke through into the air, a limp form held tightly in one tentacle. Carefully, the squid deposited the boy into the same boat that held the waterlogged girl, and despite the fact the little boat was sitting dangerously low in the water under their combined weights, Hagrid breathed a sigh of relief.

One that he almost instantly regretted, as a few seconds later the shivering Muggleborn bent over Harry and gasped. "He's not breathing!" she cried.

Hagrid's heart seemed to stop in his chest.

Dazedly, he watched the girl check his tiny friend's pulse. After a few moments, she smiled in relief. "His heart's still beating. All of you, get out of the way!" she ordered, glaring at the other occupants of the boat. They hurried to obey as she stretched the boy out flat on the floor and, to their surprise, put her mouth to his.

"'Ere, now, what are ye doin'?!" Hagrid indignantly asked her, nearly standing up in his own overloaded craft and tipping it over before he remembered he wasn't on dry land.

The first-year came up for air long enough to direct her glare towards _him_ and speak a few words. "I'm saving his _life_. Now, if you don't mind…" Almost instantly she was back at her task, and the half-giant was amazed to see little Harry's chest rise and fall with every breath the girl took.

Then the Boy-Who-Lived was coughing weakly, and the Muggleborn was helping him sit up and pounding him on the back as most of the students, plus one groundskeeper, gaped in shock. "Easy, easy…," she murmured to him, looking relieved.

Harry stared at her with glazed green eyes, and all those present received the distinct impression that he wasn't entirely there yet. That feeling was born out as his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed once again.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall paced just outside the entrance to the Great Hall, wondering just what was keeping Hagrid with the first years. They were running several minutes late, and that simply wasn't like the man. He knew what it meant that Albus trusted him with the safety of the children… 

Then there was a shout and the sound of hurried footsteps coming from down the corridor, and her eyes widened as they took in the sight of Rubeus Hagrid practically running towards her, carrying a tiny figure in his massive arms. "Hagrid, what-"

"No time, Professor!" he shouted as he strode past her. "We need ta get 'arry to the 'ospital Wing _now_."

_Harry_... Damn it all, why did that name set off alarm bells in her mind? Automatically she called out for the small herd of first years that followed Hagrid to stay with her, even as she watched him disappear around a corner with troubled eyes.

"Oh, I hope he'll be all right…" a small first-year with bushy brown hair murmured next to her.

"What happened?" the confused Transfigurations teacher asked her, wondering what the hell was going on.

The girl looked up at her, a worried frown firmly in place. "Something hit our boat, a spell, I think, but it wasn't in the first year texts, or the second or third,so I don't know which, and-" She visibly stopped and calmed herself. "But, the boat flipped over, and I guess it hit his head, because he went under, and _drowned_…"

"_What?!_" Minerva breathed out, stunned. "Oh, Merlin…"

"No, no, it's all right!" the girl said, stopping her before she could follow her first impulse to rush off after the groundskeeper. "I got him to start breathing again, he'll be okayas long as he doesn't stop again like he did when we got to the dock…" She suddenly blinked. "Erm, the doctor here _does_ know CPR, right?"

Even if she had known what cardio-pulmonary resuscitation was, Minerva couldn't have answered. For only now had the meaning, and the connotations, of the name _Harry_ sunk into her brain.

"Oh, Merlin," she said again, paling.

* * *

Severus hid a wince as a particularly shrill squeal made itself heard from somewhere over by the Hufflepuff table. He gritted his teeth and glared at the adolescent females responsible, rather futilely as they weren't paying the teachers' table and mind whatsoever as they caught up on the summer's gossip. Idly, he wondered if he might somehow concoct a potion version of the Babbling Curse using their flapping tongues. 

And what the bloody hell was keeping Minerva? The woman was _never_ late, any more than he himself was. Unless that oaf Hagrid had managed to bollocks things up… Fuming, the Slytherin professor winced at another piercing sound made it to his ears, and glowered at the Hall's enormous doors. The longer she took to get here, the more time he would have to spend in the company of these brats…

As if on cue, the doors swung ponderously open, and Minerva strode in, the group of first-years filing in behind her. Following her usual, time-honored route, she walked up between the student tables, but Severus frowned as he observed an unaccustomed note of haste in her step.

A buzz rose from throughout the Hall as, unlike in previous years, Professor McGonagall didn't stop by the stool that held the Sorting Hat. Instead, the strict woman kept going as the new students milled around uncertainly in the aisle. The Head of Gryffindor continued on and around the table to Albus's side, where she bent and began murmuring into his ear.

The buzz of whispering voices grew louder as the Headmaster paled, and Severus felt a pang of concern. But then, after a moment of thought, the old wizard nodded and said something back to her, gesturing towards the confused first-years. Reluctantly Minerva bowed her head, and returned to the crowd of children to Sort them.

Severus didn't pay the Sorting much attention, though he absently clapped whenever a student was inducted into his house. He was too busy watching his mentor sit in his seat with a deeply worried expression in his blue eyes, even if not in his face. He was so absorbed in this pastime, in fact, that he missed both the sudden presence at his side of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, who had up until that moment been absent from the ceremony, and the way Minerva McGonagall paused after Sally-Anne Perks was Sorted into Hufflepuff /1/, before going on to call Evelyn Rivers /2/ to the Hat.

A few of the students noticed, though, and began to speculate, as Quirrell bent his turbaned head to hide a grim smile.

* * *

**/1/** No one knows what house Miss Perks was placed into- hell, no one even knows where she is! But, looking at a list of students in Harry's year, there seems to be a dearth of Hufflepuff students, though for many other students, as well, we don't know the relevant house. 

**/2/** Rivers was thenext studentname given after Harry's, but no first name, nor sex, was mentioned. Her first name is random, and I have decided to make her a female Ravenclaw, since, from the list, there are many more male Ravenclaws named than female in that particular year.

* * *

A/N: Well, what do you think? I hope the various professors, future professors, and students seemed believable… Sorry if they're not, but as I finish this I'm suffering from a head cold, so I'm not tracking as well as I usually do… 

Oh, and for those of you who are waiting with baited breath for a new chapter on _Strains of Melody_, _Know Thyself_, or _Akuryou_, you might be in for a couple-weeks wait. I'm trying to get something out on each of those stories of mine that normally don't get much attention. Expect a chapter of _Tomb of Memory_ soon, as well as the first chapter of _Thanatogenesis_. (/grimaces/ Yeah, I know, I'm insane for starting another one, but frankly, I need a story that's both a stress reliever and a way to practice writing action scenes.)

And _PLEASE_, no one suggest that this be a Harry/Hermione. No offense to those of you out there who like it, but I simply cannot _stand_ that pairing. No clue why, too…

* * *

**_Review Responses_**

_Our thanks to:_ **af****-****zero**, **Akua**, **ananova**, **borne-shadow-childe**, **Drusilla**, **E.A.V.**, **gaul1**, **Gia**, **Iniysa**, **LassyD**, and **scarhead101**.

**stanleyT**: The slash vs. not-slash issue hasn't really been decided yet, up here. /taps temple/ I prefer not deciding while the people in question haven't even gone through puberty yet… It's just that I can't see Harry with any female currently in the books. (except possibly Tonks, but she hasn't been introduced well enough yet to say yea or nay.)

**Wren Truesong**: /laughs/ Cliffies, my dear lady, are a specialty… /bows/

* * *

2 December 2004


	3. They Live Inside Your Heart

**Warnings and Disclaimers: **None to really speak of on either front.

* * *

_Some say there's supposed to be a bright light, after you die. A beautiful white light that shines with all the love and goodness in the world, and welcomes you into its embrace, to bask in it for all eternity._

_Many have asked Harry Potter, in the years since his drowning at the hands and wand of a Death Eater, whether he remembers such a light. But try as hard as he might, he is never able to summon up more than the terror of that moment, the memory of the spell, and the pain of his capsized skiff striking him unconscious. He doesn't remember being resuscitated by the muggleborn Hermione Granger, not merely once, but twice; nor does he recall the panic of Hogwarts' professors at the near-death of one of their students._

_In fact, to this day he claims that the only bright light he saw during that time was the rather painful light of Hogwarts' Hospital Wing, upon his awakening..._

**_-an excerpt from _Wings From the Waters**_**, written by Frank Miraklen, Historian of the Order of the Phoenix**

* * *

_

Even before he opened his eyes, Harry knew doing so would be a mistake. The light shone down through his lids, painting his featureless world a brilliant crimson, but even so, he forced his eyes open, automatically flinching as the light flooded them.

"Oh, thank Merlin, he's awake!" he heard a relieved voice exclaim. "Poppy! Poppy, he's awake!" Hurried footsteps followed the words as he tried to blink tears from his eyes, as though someone were rushing to his side.

Gentle hands brushed away his tears, and Harry felt a rush of gratitude as whoever they belonged to leaned over him, blocking out the light. "Mr. Potter, can you hear me?" a non-nonsense female voice asked him quietly, but nevertheless making him wince as the sound echoed around his skull. He nodded gingerly, not sure his head would stay on his shoulders otherwise.

His eyesight finally cleared, showing him a woman's face bent over him. Fine wrinkles graced the corners of her brown eyes and thin lips, smile and frown lines in equal abundance, and her iron-gray hair was confined under a stern square cap.

"Well now, Mr. Potter, I do believe you are the first student to end up under my care before the Sorting had even taken in place," she told him, her voice crisp but not quite unsympathetic.

It was only then that he really noticed he was lying on a soft bed, and that his head and chest hurt something terrible. "What... what happened?" he tried to ask, cringing as he burst into a fit of coughing.

"Your boat capsized and smacked you a good one upside the head," the lady told him, helping him sit up so he could breathe more easily. "I've never thought those things were safe, but it's _tradition_, and Albus wouldn't hear of changing it. Now, take a good deep breath."

She listened as he complied, and tutted when they both heard the damp rasping. "The water damaged your lungs. You'd best take it easy over the next couple of weeks. Can't have you overstraining yourself and coming down with an infection, now can we, Mr. Potter?"

"We most certainly can not." Harry looked over at the doorway to see Headmaster Dumbledore standing there, smiling at him. Professor McGonagall was at his shoulder. "Hello, Harry."

"Er, hullo, sir," Harry replied, nervous butterflies fluttering in his stomach. "Um, I'm sorry about this..."

"Nonsense, dear boy! 'Twasn't your fault at all." Dumbledore moved to his bedside. "Poppy, might I speak with your patient for a few moments?" he inquired of the iron-haired woman.

Poppy gave Harry a long, reluctant look. "Not for too long, now. And if you tire him out I'll have more than a few choice words for you." With a brisk nod, she and Professor McGonagall left the room.

"How do you feel, Harry?" the elderly wizard asked.

"I'm fine, sir," Harry replied, his automatic reaction to any such question.

"Is that so?" Dumbledore looked at him, one fluffy white eyebrow raised, and the boy flushed.

"My... my head hurts," he admitted quietly. "And my chest aches, especially when I breathe."

The Headmaster nodded, silent for the moment. "Harry, I need you to tell me just what happened," he finally said. "I have already spoken with Hagrid, but he tells me you were the first to see the curse coming towards you."

Harry nodded and took what was meant to be a deep breath, but turned into a shallow one as his lungs throbbed. The wizard waited patiently as he coughed a few times. "I... I was looking at the moon's reflection, in the water, and then I saw the reflection of this bright purple light coming towards us. I wasn't sure it wasn't a trick of the light, so I looked up, and when it was still there I yelled for Hagrid." He frowned. "And then... then I remember it hitting the boat, the sound of wood cracking, and then nothing."

"I see. Then you saw nothing in the direction the Blasting Curse came from?" Dumbledore seemed disappointed when Harry shook his head. "Ah, well. 'Twas only a hope."

Harry bit his lip. "Um, sir? What happens now?"

The Headmaster pondered for a few seconds. "Well, I imagine Madame Pomfrey will be wanting to keep you overnight, just to make sure there aren't any complications. After that..." He clapped his hands together. "But of course! You missed the Sorting! We'll need to bring the Hat out again so it can sort you into your house."

The boy blinked. "...Hat, sir?"

Dumbledore nodded. "The Sorting Hat. I'll bring it by later tonight."

A throat cleared, and they both looked up to see Poppy standing there with her hands on her hips. "That's quite long enough, Albus. Mr. Potter still needs to get lunch and a few potions inside of him, and then if he doesn't get some rest he'll be here for much longer than tonight."

Dumbledore sighed, but got up all the same. "Of course. Please, no sleeping potions. He still needs to be sorted sometime this evening." The mediwitch made a disgruntled noise, but nodded all the same, and the old wizard gave Harry one last smile before leaving the room.

It was only a minute before the mediwitch was bustling over with a tray. A steaming bowl of stew was placed in front of him, and a hunk of bread rested beside it to sop up the juices with. A moment before Harry hadn't been hungry at all; now he was ravenous, and fell on the food with the appetite only a growing boy could have.

It wasn't until he'd finished that he reached up to push his glasses back on his nose. Even after having had the same frame for going on four years now, they were still just a bit too large for his face, and were forever slipping down until he nearly drove himself cross-eyed trying to see through them. This time, though, as he performed what had long ago become habit, Harry froze. "Madam Pomfrey?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" she called back from a little anteroom that he supposed was her office.

"I think there's something wrong!"

There was a pause, but then like lightning the mediwitch was at his side. "I can see!" Harry told her, a note of panic in his voice.

Madam Pomfrey blinked at him. "Well, I should hope so! Why in the world-?"

For the first time in his life, Harry interrupted an adult. "But where are my_ glasses_!"

-

When Harry finally sank back in bed later that night, he almost wished he hadn't said anything. Madam Pomfrey had run every test imaginable on him, and except for the damage in his lungs and the still-tender spot on his temple, each and every one of them had come back normal. They still had no idea why his eyes had gotten better, and the mediwitch was seriously considering calling in a professional from a place called St. Mungo's to come take a look at him.

Harry hoped she wouldn't. He was already causing enough of a fuss, and he wanted nothing more than to just sink back into the background for a while. Part of the furor was undoubtedly because he was the first student to die, however temporarily, in Hogwarts in decades, but he had a feeling the rest was because of the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing Hagrid had told him about.

Celebrity wasn't all it was cracked up to be. So far, he'd been stared at like a bug under a microscope and nearly drowned by someone they still hadn't caught yet. Madam Pomfrey had something about Aurors scouring the lakeside for clues (he guessed Aurors were something like bobbies), but that they hadn't found anything useful.

The door to the Hospital Wing opened, and Dumbledore stepped in, cradling a tattered gray hat beneath one arm. "Hello again, my boy. No visitors?" He looked around, as though trying to spot someone hiding behind one of the antiseptically-white beds.

Harry shook his head. "Madam Pomfrey hasn't been letting anyone in."

"Ah." The Headmaster moved to his bedside. "This shouldn't take long. Let's find out where you belong, shall we?" He pulled the Hat out and handed it to the boy. "Just put this on."

Harry took the Hat nervously, his hands trembling just a bit, and slipped it on. It was much too big for him, and fell over his eyes. He was staring into the darkness, waiting for something to happen, when the Hat spoke.

_What's this, then? Mr. Potter, is it? Well, let's see what to make of you. Hmm. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. Talent, oh yes, and a thirst to prove yourself... Where to put you? And..._

It paused, there in his mind, looking at something he couldn't see. _Oh, my... Oh..._ Harry couldn't help but wonder what in the world could stun a hat so, let alone something in him.

_Oh. This is a pretty fix. Slytherin would have been best. It would have made you great, perhaps the greatest of all..._

But I don't want to be great, Harry wanted to protest. He just wanted to be left alone, like the Dursleys had never let him be. They'd hated him, belittled him, and far too often had treated him more like the furniture, but the worst part he'd always found to be the way they'd never stopped watching him. Growing up, he'd always felt their eyes on him, just waiting for him to do something freakish.

_Is that so, then?_ The Hat murmured, and Harry jumped. He'd forgotten it was listening to his thoughts. _Perhaps it's for the best then that, the circumstances being what they are, I cannot in good conscience put you in the house of serpents. No, I think it better that you be in GRYFFINDOR!_

The last word was yelled out loud, and when Harry removed the Hat Dumbledore was smiling. "Well, there was little doubt of that!" the old man said, his eyes twinkling as he took the Hat back.

Harry thought about telling him what the Hat had said, about how Slytherin would have been best, but Dumbledore seemed so pleased... Finally, he decided to keep his mouth shut, but as the Headmaster carried the Hat away, he couldn't help but wonder.

_Why had the Hat changed its mind?

* * *

_

A/N: Christ, it's been what, a year? Longer? I think by this point _I'm_ the one giving this CPR…

* * *

_Our most sincere gratitude to_ **Akua**, **angelkitty77**, **Atropa**** Haven**, **Crysania**** Fay**, **Drusilla**, **E.A.V.** (I'm actually CPR certified, until May, at least. Then I need to get it renewed… Anyway, you only do chest compressions in cases where the victim's heart isn't beating, and I was very clear that Harry's still was), **Errorbasin**, **Fate**, **Firehedgehog**, **HAZZAGRIFF**, **HecateDeMort**, **japanese-jew**, **Jolly Rancher**, **knuckz**, **Laurinasta**** Blaze**, **mab**, **Mithros**, **nogoalielikeme**, **Shade Dancer** (hugs), **Shadowed Rains**, **Wren Truesong**, _and _**YumiAngel** _for reviewing_.

* * *

9 October 2005


	4. There's Always Something More

_Warnings and Disclaimers:_ Warnings for story necromancy and hooky corrupted Latin phrases.

-----

Professor McGonagall brought Harry his class schedule the next morning, just as he was finishing up the breakfast tray Madam Pomfrey had set in front of him earlier with a stern admonition to eat it all. Apparently Harry was just a little too thin to suit the mediwitch.

"Good morning, Mr. Potter," the professor greeted him with a friendly nod, taking a seat by his bedside. "I trust you are feeling better?"

Harry set his fork down on the empty plate. "Yes, ma'am," he answered quietly. "I'm sorry if I was a bother yesterday-"

She snorted, startling him into a little jump of surprise. "Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Potter. What happened wasn't your fault. We should have expected something of the sort, this being the first time you've been truly visible in the wizarding world since you defeated You-Know-Who. We never did catch all of his followers."

The boy shivered, staring down at his plate. Last night was finally starting to sink in. He'd nearly died. Heck, according to Madam Pomfrey he _had_ died, temporarily. And someone had actually _tried_, _wanted_ to kill him…

And if he was reading his professor's words right, they would probably try again.

"Now then," Professor McGonagall said matter-of-factly, bringing him out of his musings with a jerk. She handed him a slip of paper that he took with a mute nod of thanks, and then reached into her pocket. "I took the liberty of obtaining the books you'll need today, as well as some clothing, since you will not have time to visit Gryffindor Tower if you intend to make all your classes on time."

Harry blinked at her as she enlarged the bag in her hand with a tap of her wand. "I- thank you, ma'am," he said after a moment. "I'd, um, better get changed, then."

Unnoticed in the doorway until she coughed, surprising both of them, Madam Pomfrey gestured towards the back of the Hospital Wing. "There's a bathroom you can use back there," she told him. "Don't forget to wash up a bit. And for Merlin's sake, comb your hair!"

Blushing, Harry pulled his clothes from the bag and nearly ran for the bathroom.

-----

When he came back out, Professor McGonagall was still waiting. The boy set his stale clothes (cleaned by magic after his unwilling dump into the lake) on the bed and gave her a questioning look. "I will escort you to your first class," she answered. "And a prefect will be waiting for you when it finishes to escort you to the next."

Harry stared at her, astonished, and her face took on a grim cast. "I'm afraid that until whoever attacked you is caught, you mustn't go anywhere alone, even here in the castle. Your unknown assailant has proven quite handily that he, or she, can reach you even in Hogwarts' halls."

"Oh," Harry said quietly, suddenly very sorry he'd even indirectly asked.

-----

Filius Flitwick looked up as he heard a brusque knock on his classroom door, and then took a glance at the clock. How odd… Normally the students didn't show up nearly this early. And this was a first-year class, to boot! He imagined most of them wouldn't stop getting lost on their way around the castle for another week or so.

Sighing as the knock was repeated, the little professor jumped down off his chair, eschewing the steps that led up to it. "Come in, come in, already!" he called out, pushing his spectacles further up on his nose. Really, it wasn't like the door was locked or anything…

To his surprise, it was Minerva who opened the door, standing straight and stern in her deep blue robes. "Good morning, Filius," she said with a nod before he could even open his mouth. "I'm just here to deliver Mr. Potter. You recall the meeting last night?"

Filius nodded as he peered at the shadow hovering nearly hidden behind her robes, comprehension dawning in the wake of her words. Oh, yes, he remembered the meeting. Albus had called it to order after the Welcoming Feast, informing all the teachers of the day's events, and together they'd decided what to do about the security of the Boy-Who-Lived. Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had attended, and offered a squad of Aurors to patrol the school, but the Headmaster had refused, saying he didn't want to disrupt the school any more than necessary.

Oddly enough, it was Severus and Minerva who had banded together to protest this, insisting that someone needed to keep a closer eye on the boy, though Severus had done so with a deep sneer etched into his features. After more than an hour of arguing and suggesting mostly implausible solutions, they'd hit upon this plan as the only acceptable compromise. "I'm to expect young Sullivan to pick him up, then?"

The Head of Gryffindor nodded. "And you're not to let him go until Mr. Sullivan arrives," she reminded him, rather unnecessarily. She turned her head to look at her student, gesturing him forward into the light.

Potter was shorter than Filius had expected him to be, very nearly equal to his own height. He looked rather skinny as well, though it was hard to tell through the afghan wrapped around his shoulders. "Are you all right, lad?" the Charms professor asked, eyeing the wrap curiously.

Startlingly green eyes flicked up to blinked owlishly at him. "I- yes, sir. It's just… cold."

"Ah, I see." Filius completely understood. He, too, often found the castle too chilly for his liking. "Thank you, Minerva, but I think we can handle things from here," he told his colleague, knowing she was itching to get to her classroom and get things ready for her first class of the day.

Minerva nodded with a thin smile of appreciation. "I suppose so. Have a good day, Mr. Potter," she said, turning to leave. "Do try to keep breathing, and I'll see you in class tomorrow."

The boy watched her go out, suddenly looking very lost, and Filius felt a surge of sympathy for the obviously shy boy. He really wasn't at all like the professor had expected such a famous person to be… "Well then, Mr. Potter, why don't you take a seat?" he suggested, waving towards the rows of desks. "It will be a few minutes until the rest of your fellow students show up. And since you seem to have the same dislike for the cold that I do, why don't I start showing you the Warming Charm? It's a little advanced, but it really does make life easier in this drafty place."

Potter seemed to relax a little at Filius' warm, encouraging smile, and took a cautious seat in the seat nearest the door. "…Alright," he agreed, pulling out his wand.

The professor beamed happily. "First, as with any charm, you must learn the proper motion. For this particular spell, it's a short, stabbing motion, not unlike as though you were pointing at it with your finger. Then, you keep your wand pointed until the object you're casting on reaches the temperature you want. Well?" he asked as the boy made no move.

"Oh." Potter glanced around for something to aim at, finally choosing one of the extra course books Filius always kept around just in case, and which was currently lying on his desk. He jabbed with his wand in its direction as the little professor watched.

"You've nearly got it, lad, but not quite so much jab, if you please. Too much force, and you're liable to set whatever you're aimed at on fire rather than just warm it up," Filius commented, remembering some of the classes of the previous years. He'd lost track of how many times he'd had to go to Poppy for Hair Regrower over the decades he'd been teaching at Hogwarts.

"Oh," the boy said again, looking abashed. He motioned with his wand again, this time getting the move close enough to perfect as to make no-nevermind until he could get in some real practice.

"Excellent!" Filius praised, clapping his hands with delight. He remembered Lily Evans from when she'd attended the school, and from a few occasions after she graduated. He might have had students more gifted at Charms than the dedicated redhead, but they were few and far between indeed. If her son had even half her talent, as he seemed to, then it would be a delight to teach him. "Now then. The incantation to the Warming Charm is _Fervacio_ _Crescum_, with the emphasis on the 'va' and the 'cres'. Say it with me."

Together, they repeated the incantation a dozen times or so, until the professor nodded in satisfaction. "That should do. We should still have a little time, so why don't you try it for real?" He brought the book over to Potter's desk and laid a careful finger on its corner.

The boy took a deep breath and stabbed with his wand, saying the incantation at the same time. Filius continued to test the book's temperature for another few seconds or so, before he realized nothing had happened. "How peculiar," he said, frowning in puzzlement. "Even if you cast that wrongly, there should have been some reaction…"

Potter was frowning as well, though at his wand rather than the empty air. "That… felt weird," he said hesitantly.

"Oh?"

Potter started inspecting the wand, turning it over and over in his fingers as though he expected to find a scratch in the wood. "It felt… dead. Like I was just waving a regular stick. It didn't feel that way at all at Ollivanders."

Filius frowned again. That truly was strange. And worrying. To have a wand suddenly go dead couldn't be a good thing. "Perhaps if you gave it a wave?" he suggested.

The boy obeyed, waving the wand through the air a couple of times. On the first pass, nothing happened, but on the second there was a sudden burst of white and gold sparks that vanished before hitting the ground. "Ah! There, you see? Nothing to worry about," the professor said brightly, before noticing the frown hadn't left his student's face. "Now what is it?"

"At Ollivanders, the sparks were red and gold," Potter answered quietly, as at last other students began to trickle in, in ones and twos.

Forced to deal with the new arrivals, Filius pushed the puzzle to the back of his mind to be pondered later. After all, the boy's wand was working now.

How important could it be?

-----

A/N: Wow. That came out amazingly easy, considering I haven't worked on this story since… October of 2005. Not quite a year. Though part of that ease might have been the two hours or so I spent brainstorming on this with my heart-sister tonight… And may I mention how truly a pain it is to figure out a class schedule from JKR's rare hints?

**Error fixed**: Thanks to Kittyhawk and Tati1 for catching that. I really need to stop late-night writing...

Hugs to all the people who were still looking out for an update on this thing.

4 September 2006


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